Episode Report Card
admin: D | 3 USERS: A-
Clap Your Hands If You Believe…

Meanwhile, back at the crop circle, an ill wind batters against the remaining cornstalks, heralding the reappearance of that brilliant white light. It flashes in briefly to disgorge Delirious El Deano upon the trampled ground, then cuts out even more quickly than it had appeared, leaving Our Addled Hero to scream and rant and squeeze off three or four rounds from his trusty pearl-handled automatic before he realizes he's alone. Wild-eyed, he whips himself around, ready to send a few more bullets zipping into the blameless field that surrounds him until the camera cuts over to...

...This Week's Motel Room. A bone-weary El Deano trudges in to find Soulless Sammy schtupping that stringy-haired hippie chick. Extremely awkward introductions are made, followed by an equally awkward silence as the stringy-haired hippie chick gathers her belongings to begin her walk of shame. Right before she exits, though, she twirls around and asks Dean, "What were they like?" "They were grabby, incandescent douchebags," Dean growls. "Too soon?" the hippie guesses. Dean slams the door in her face. Heh. He then stands there for a very long moment, his back to Sam, his silence letting Sam know the extent of his displeasure. "You're... upset?" Soulless Sammy surmises. Dean carefully gathers what little patience he has left and slowly turns to simmer, "I was abducted, and you were banging Patchouli!" "I didn't think she smelled that bad," Sam squints. "I was abducted by aliens!" Dean repeats, raging now, for what little patience he had left is now lost. "I was looking into it!" Soulless Sammy insists. "'Looking into it'?" Dean bays. "I was gone for, like, an hour! And most of that was walking back to town!" Sam pulls out his cell phone to prove to Dean that he was actually gone most of the night, and excited mention is made of "the time slip" before Sam pads into the room's kitchen to pour his brother a healthy slug of bourbon, all the while peppering him with questions about the experience. Dean's bizarrely reluctant to divulge specific details, because they're playing this entire sequence for laughs, and nothing is more hilarious than a heterosexual man's morbid fear of the "butt thing," but when he finally spills, it turns out that not much of anything happened at all. Long story short, the creatures he encountered were so bright that he couldn't really see them or his surroundings, so he started slashing at them with his knife while firing away at them with his trusty pearl-handled automatic, and they eventually let him go. Next!

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